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by sweetiejelly



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 12:23:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetiejelly/pseuds/sweetiejelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written to the prompt "Heartbeats."</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> Written back in 2010 for a diva_off challenge.

Your heart beats sixty, eighty times a minute, sometimes more. It’s like breathing. You take it for granted. You take it for granted until it falters or accelerates, until its thumps fill your ears like shells full of ocean.

Mike Chang is something like a heartbeat. He’s always just there. He’s always just there next to you. You think it has something to do with your height and his height and how the group looks good with him next to you. Or maybe it’s with you next to him.

You see him, his smile, his self-effacing dip of head as he laughs at some joke. You see him everyday just like you see Finn or Mercedes. You say hi and you guys break into dance without rhyme or reason, without the usual self-consciousness of your teen life. It just feels right with him. It’s just fun. The guy can dance as well as you, maybe better.

Okay, he’s better. You’ll give him that. There’s that pop and lock thing that you totally don’t get. _Yet._ You don’t think you totally get Mike either. He’s never said much. You’d be hard pressed to name his favorite color or even his favorite musician. And you’re observant. At least you think you are. You notice the fashion around school like nobody else does. You notice where Finn is at all times. You think maybe you’re observant to a fault.

Yet you don’t know Mike. Not really. You didn’t even notice him until he bumped into you at glee club practice earlier. Usually he dances with Brittany or grooves by himself. Usually there’s no touching. But today his hand was on your shoulder and you suddenly noticed the weight of it. His hip knocked into your hip and you suddenly noticed the heat of it. He leaned in close for a second when you’re harmonizing and for a moment you falter. You’ve caught the scent of him - a mix of fresh laundry and crisp aftershave that was so distinctive you wondered how you could have missed it before.

So, that was the before and now you’re in the after. Now, like a heartbeat kicked into gear, Mike was suddenly on your mind, flooding your senses, your thoughts. You missed your dad calling earlier, something about coming up for dinner. Finn had to come down and snap his fingers twice in front of your eyes. And then the ocean of thoughts faded and you fell into the present and stumbled up the stairs.

Throughout dinner you go back to thinking about Mike. You really put your mind to conjuring up his face. He’s kind of cute in that harmless way. He’s kind of sweet when he smiles. His voice isn’t deep as Puck’s or as clear as Finn’s or as distinctive as yours. His voice is sort of ordinary but always in tune. His voice sounds good next to yours, really good mixed in with yours.

You realize you’re developing some sort of a crush. It’s not as mega as the one you have on Finn. It couldn’t be. It’s _Mike_. Still, it’s nice and sort of normal. And you realize you don’t know anything about his dating life, if he has one. You don’t know if he likes anyone. You don’t know if he likes _you_.

You don’t even know if he’s just friends with Brittany or more. For a minute, you’re irrationally jealous. But the jealousy doesn’t last. You _have_ kissed Brittany after all. So if Mike has too, you’re kind of even.

Your heartbeat evens out as you fall deeper into sleep. You’re dreaming already - Mike’s spikes of hair, that shy smile. You guys are dancing on some beach. There’s a breeze. The whole group is there. You are singing and Mike is leaning in close. Your last thought – maybe tonight you will find out what a guy’s lips taste like.

Your heart beats sixty, eighty times a minute. No. No, it’s definitely _more_.


End file.
